Missing
by WistfulGhost
Summary: Haru can remember almost nothing of the night Rin died. The only witness, Haru was questioned for hours before the police gave up, ruling the death accidental. Years later, strange things are happening, including sighting of a redheaded boy that looks disturbingly like Rin. Now, Haru and the others must solve the mystery of their friend's death before it kills anyone else.
1. Prologue

Haru thought about that night a lot, though he remembered only bits and pieces of the aftermath. The hypnotic rise and fall of the sirens, blue and red dancing frantically around the twilit swim club. The percussion of the news helicopter above, a staccato _thutthutthut_ against his ears, though when he looked up all he could see was the blinding white spotlight. The policewoman talking to him in a motherly tone, and he was sure it was supposed to be comforting like the blanket she put around his shoulders, but all he heard was a wordless buzz. And through the blur of the crowd a pair of bright green eyes, familiar as home and round with fear, locking on his. In less than a minute Makoto's hand was in Haru's hand and his voice was in Haru's ear, a breathless tumble of words and warm air.

"Haru? What happened? Where's Rin?"

Nagisa had been next to him, throwing his arms around Haru's shoulders as if he were afraid Haru would disappear. He was quiet for once, staring wide-eyed at the closed ambulance surrounded by cops and paramedics talking quietly. The ambulance lights flashed silently, and the telling lack of a rush drew Makoto's gaze as well. He paled so fast that Haru remembered being dimly concerned he would faint. "Haru..." he said slowly, his hand tightening to a death grip. "Where's Rin?"

Haru had opened his mouth to reply, but that was where his memory cut off, and he never quite recalled what he had said.


	2. Day 1

Day 1

Yes, Haru thought about that night a lot, though five years had not improved his memory. He recalled standing there with Makoto and Nagisa, then the police station, and then home, and nothing in between. Sometimes he wondered why he didn't just ask Makoto, but then he would catch the looks the other would give him periodically, when he had spent too long staring out the window or up at the sky, and remember he didn't want to worry him. And so Haru stayed quiet, letting that night soak into his thoughts so that it was always at the back of his mind, but he never spoke of it, and Makoto respectfully never brought it up.

He could see a sliver of ocean from his desk by the window, if he leaned back at the right angle. At this time of day the sunlight caught the surface perfectly, making it look like someone had spilled diamonds across it, like a light blue sky that still managed to scattered with stars, gleaming impossibly bright. He could almost feel the cool water enveloping his body, suspending him in a place where nothing but his thoughts could reach him, and he couldn't hold back the smallest of sighs. Why was winter so damn long?

"Haru!"

Makoto's sharp hiss cut through his reverie, snapping him back to the classroom. Haru glanced over at his best friend, then to the pretty brown-haired woman at the front of the room. "Miss Nanase Haruka?" she called again, looking around with some confusion as the room hummed with laughter. "Is she here?"

"Ah!" Makoto called, pointing in Haru's direction. "Haru's a boy!"

Her face flooded with crimson and she fumbled with the clipboard, peering down at the attendance list. The laughter grew as her eyes widened, flicking back and forth between the name and the stone-faced dark haired boy at the back of the room. "Ah! Nanase-kun, I'm sorry! You weren't here for the opening ceremony… I'm Amakata Miho, your new homeroom teacher."

Haru didn't reply, turning to look back out the window. He was used to being mistaken for a girl because of his name, but that didn't stop him from wishing that he could be named something a little better than _Haruka._

The morning slid by in a blink, and honestly Haru could not have said what they covered in class. He watched the sliver of ocean through the window, pencil limp in his hand as the seconds dripped by. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he hadn't even heard the bell, and jumped slightly at Makoto's touch on his shoulder.

"Sorry!" His friend pulled back, hands up in apology. "It's lunch. Let's eat on the roof?"

"I didn't bring anything."

"I can wait if you want to buy something. Or I'll share with you."

Haru shrugged, pushing himself to his feet. The classroom had emptied as rapidly as was expected with a group of hungry teenagers, and Makoto took the opportunity to lay a gentle hand on his arm. "It's coming up, isn't it?" he asked softly, and Haru shrugged again, as if he didn't have the date memorized right down to the time. "Are you all right, Haru?"

It was so very like Makoto to be worried, and so predictable that he would see through any fib that Haruka put on him. He tried anyway. "I'm fine." The day was still three weeks away, after all. For now, he was fine.

Makoto's green eyes observed him quietly, with that little wrinkle between them that said he didn't believe what Haru was saying. But there would be time later to comfort his friend, when Haru locked himself in the bathroom and sat in the tub until dawn arrived, Makoto taking up silent watch outside the door. He never knew asked Haruka did in there, and Haruka never mentioned those nights. They had happened more frequently in the beginning, tapering off as time passed to only the anniversary and perhaps the night before or after. As the sun rose Haru would emerge and sit silently with the sleeping Makoto until he woke, and they would visit the grave together, and then carry on as normal.

But it was not the kind of day that would bring that sort of night, and so Makoto let it go, merely squeezing Haru's arm in a silent promise that he was there if he was needed. "All right," he replied, with one of his warm smiles. "Let's eat, I'm starving."

Haru followed him into the crowd, resisting the urge to take hold of his friend's sleeve so he wouldn't get lost. They wove through the sea of people to climb the staircase, but were stopped near the top by a high voice shouting for them, a voice he almost recognized.

"Haru-chan! Mako-chan!"

Haru cringed inwardly at the unwelcome nickname, turning back to look down the stairs into a pair of familiar violet eyes, alight with joy, in an elfish face surrounded by a tumble of wavy blond hair. The boy's mouth stretched wider into a grin, excited gaze flicking back and forth between them. "I knew it! I can't believe it's been five years!"

"N-Nagisa?" Makoto stammered, face slack in astonishment. "What—"

Nagisa ran up the stairs to them, flinging his arms around Makoto, his fist narrowly missing Haruka's nose. "I transferred here!" He whirled to hug Haru, grabbing him before the taller boy could jerk away. "It's been so long! Mako-chan, you got _reeally_ tall! I missed you guys!"

Makoto read the cry for help in Haru's blue eyes, tugging Nagisa gently off him. "We missed you too, Nagisa!" he replied, though Haru didn't look like he had at the moment. "We're going to eat lunch on the roof, join us?"

On the way, Nagisa enthusiastically filled them in on his life the last five years, the different middle school he'd gone to, how swimming there wasn't nearly as fun. Makoto managed to keep up with the constant babble of words thanks to the years of practice he'd gotten under his belt in elementary school, keeping the conversation on himself and Nagisa and off Haru with a skill that impressed the dark-haired boy.

"I heard it's going to be torn down soon, though," Nagisa sighed at one point, just as Haruka tuned back in. He glanced at the blond in confusion, and Nagisa hastened to elaborate. "Iwatobi Swimming Club. You know, where we swam in elementary school. I heard it's haunted." He gave a theatrical shudder.

"Nagisa," Makoto interjected, with a sidelong glance at Haru's suddenly blank face.

Nagisa either ignored him or didn't understand, but his eyes lit up with enthusiasm. "Hey, we should go! One last time!"

"Nagisa, I don't think—"

"It's probably not actually haunted, Mako-chan! Haru-chan, let's—"

"No." Haru shoved Makoto's spare chopsticks back at him and stood.

"But—"

"No."

"Haru-chan—"

"I said no, Nagisa." He walked away to stand at the chain link fence surrounding the roof. There was a much better view of the ocean up here; he leaned against the fence, staring across the endless expanse of glittery blue to where it met the sky at the horizon.

"But—"

"Nagisa," Makoto interrupted the blond's continued protests. His eyes had followed Haru, dark with sadness. "That's a bit of a tender subject."

Nagisa's mouth twisted into a guilty frown. "I know, but I figured he'd want to say goodbye."

_Maybe._ Makoto hadn't thought of that, and after a moment he heaved a sigh. Would it be better for Haru to go, see it one last time? A form of closure, almost? He still thought about it all the time; he tried to hide it, and he did that very well. But Makoto had been his best friend since kindergarten, knew him inside and out like no one else, and Haru couldn't hide anything from him.

"Let me talk to him." He laid his lunchbox to the side, following Haru to the fence. He stood with the shorter boy for a moment, watching him watch the ocean. "You can see it well from up here, huh?" he asked softly. "I hope it gets warm soon so you can swim in it again."

Haru didn't look at him. "I'm not going, Makoto." His voice was soft and did not carry any particular emotion, but his shoulders were tight and his face was still tellingly blank.

Makoto had to twist his fingers rather tightly into the gaps in the fence, trying to keep from pulling his friend into a hug. At the moment, Haru did not want to be touched. "I'm not saying you should or shouldn't," he replied quietly, watching Haru relax ever so slightly at the words. "But if you want to say good-bye, this is the last chance you'll probably get."

Haru seemed almost to deflate a little, and he finally turned his head to study his best friend with an expression even Makoto had trouble deciphering. He kept his face open, what he wanted for Haru plain in his eyes—a release, peace, freedom from what Makoto knew still tangled his heart up every day. After a long moment the black-haired boy gave a light sigh, dropping his eyes back to the ocean. "Fine. I'll go if it means that much to you." He hadn't realised how much Makoto had been able to read in him, and he wasn't sure if it disturbed or comforted him.

Now Makoto allowed himself to touch Haru, a gentle hand on his tense shoulder. "Thank you." He knew that Haru's irritation wasn't really directed at him, and tried not to take it personally. They stood like that for a while, Haru lost in the sea and Makoto lost in his thoughts, until the bell rang shrilly through the school and they came back to themselves with identical starts.

Nagisa approached them then, head tilted questioningly at Makoto, who nodded. The blond grinned in triumph, though he snuck a concerned look at Haru. "I'll get you at eight, Mako-chan," he whispered almost gleefully, and darted off into the crowd flowing down the stairwell.

_I don't remember the first time I saw Rin. I just remember the first time I saw him swim._

_The sound of his goggles against the back of my head caught my attention at first, the sharp snap echoing through the high-ceilinged room. He crouched on the starting block, entire body tense with anticipation, and launched eagerly at the coach's signal. He had a powerful dive, propelling himself far and sliding into the water with a hearty splash. He was fast, and very, very good._

"_Haru?"_

_Makoto's voice called me back to the practice; I turned my eyes away from this new boy with a faint feeling of unease in my stomach. "Sorry." I hauled myself reluctantly from the pool, water falling from me as though it were trying to pull me back in. "Go ahead."_

_I wasn't able to pay any attention to Makoto's breast-stroke. I kept sneaking looks at the new boy as his red head popped out of the water, squinting up at the time clock and laughing in triumph at his new time. He had a loud laugh, a wide smile that lit his scarlet eyes up in a way that sharpened the disquiet that twisted in my gut. I decided I didn't like him almost immediately._

_Makoto splashed up from the pool, shaking water from his brown hair. "Your turn again, Haru."_

_I climbed onto the starting block, not even waiting for Sasabe's signal before diving in, impatient for the cool touch of the water. I let my body drive me forward, not bothering to try for any sort of speed. I just wanted to feel the water. It was where I was safe, suspended in the loving embrace of a close friend, away from the uncomfortable strangeness coiling inside me._

_I still felt him as he advanced on me, drawing up and passing me easily. My body responded almost automatically, flattening and pulling harder with each stroke. I twisted and flipped, pushing off from the opposite wall and darting back the other way. I beat him easily, of course, and my previous time. He tried to dominate the water, like a dog he was trying to whip into shape. I welcomed it against me, extending a hand to it as a friend, and it treated me the same way._

_I pulled my goggles from my eyes, shaking the excess water from my hair. He was grinning that grin at me, and I looked away. "You're as fast as the rumours say," he told me. "Did you beat your time?"_

"_I don't care about times."_

_He laughed, surprising me. "That's what the rumours said too. Nanase, right? Matsuoka Rin."_

_I ignored him. Makoto dropped a hand to me with his own easy smile. "That was really good, Haru."_

_I took his hand, letting him pull me up out of the water. "Thanks."_

_He had a towel around his shoulders, and draped another over my head. "A good note to end practice on."_

"_Yeah." I pulled the towel away from my face, glancing over at the loud splashing Rin made as he climbed out of the pool. He was scrubbing his hair with his own towel, laughing at something his coach said to him._

_Turning to head for the locker room, he noticed my eyes on him and grinned again. I spun sharply on my heel, entirely uncomfortable with the restlessness zigzagging up my spine, but his voice caught me and paused me. "Hey, Nanase!" He fell in next to me, Makoto on my other side. "Let's swim together again next time!"_

"_Maybe," I muttered, speeding up to leave them behind. At my back I heard Rin—he was already Rin in my mind, never Matsuoka—whisper to Makoto. It sounded like, "Is he always like this?"_

_Makoto just chuckled awkwardly, but he probably nodded, or whispered something back too quietly for me to hear. Something like, "Haru's not very talkative. He doesn't mean to be rude."_

_But with Rin I did mean to be rude. I didn't like the cocky grins he gave me, or the echoes of his loud laughter around the pool or locker room. I hated the way he challenged me when all I wanted to do was swim, and hated even more the way I couldn't resist those challenges. I couldn't stand how my gut twisted when he was around, an irritating tingle at the base of my spine, and how I looked furtively around for him when I couldn't see him. I did my best to avoid him after that, but I didn't succeed for very long._

_Why did I let them talk me into this?_

For once, Haru was finding it difficult to keep still, shifting uncomfortably in the chilly air. The three of them stood in purple twilight in front of the swimming club, staring up at the tattered paint of the logo. It was a quiet evening, but Haru thought he could hear the faint echo of sirens.

The building was quite obviously condemned. What windows remained were dark, the rest boarded up or broken. The yard was overgrown, a tangle of hardy weeds and fallen leaves that had survived the winter. There were chains across the door, a large sign that told them it was dangerous, they should keep out.

_Yes,_ Haru thought with a shiver at an icy breeze down his neck. _Let's keep out. Let's turn around and go home._

But they were already here, and there was no way to back out gracefully now.

"Here!" Nagisa said, pulling a small paper packet from his coat pocket. "Salt! To keep away ghosts!" He unwrapped it and began blowing the white powder toward Makoto.

The brown haired boy was sputtering in protest, waving the salt away. "Nagisa! There aren't any ghosts!" He glanced up at one of the dark windows and paled slightly. "Are there?"

"I've heard that people hear laughter coming from here at night." Nagisa pinched some salt between his thumb and forefinger and blew it onto Haru. "And screams, if the wind is right. Last time somebody went in I heard his eyes fell out! Just pop! outta his head!"

Makoto was even paler now. "N-Nagisa—"

"And last time—!"

"This is sugar," Haru interrupted calmly, holding up a damp forefinger. "Not salt."

"Ah." Nagisa's face dropped, and he crumpled up the little packet and shoved it back in his pocket. "It's the thought that counts! Let's go!"

They slid through the same basement window as that night five years ago, though it was noticeably smaller and devoid of glass now. It was dark inside, but their feet remembered the way to the stairs, up into the hall where the streetlights outside cast faint orange patches onto the walls.

The inside looked far better than the outside; other than a few piles of broken glass here and there it looked much the same as it had five years ago. It was all so achingly familiar; the empty vending machines, the lounge for parents, the reception desk and the bathrooms and the offices. They visited all of that, Nagisa exclaiming over memories and Makoto laughing back at him and Haru not saying anything at all. He wanted to leave the moment they emerged from the basement, unable to shake the tingling up and down his spine that suggested they were being watched.

Makoto's hand was wrapped in the back of his jacket, and Haru took a sort of comfort from that, even if Makoto kept jumping at every little noise. He was the biggest person Haru knew, but far too soft sometimes.

"What was that?" Makoto yelped at one particularly loud crash from ahead, leaping behind Haru and clutching at his arm so tightly that the shorter boy stumbled against him.

Nagisa's violet eyes were huge and round, staring up the hallway in a mixture of fascination and terror. "I don't know."

"What did you do, Nagisa?" Haru's voice was bored, but he was somewhat tense against Makoto, not drawing away like he normally would have.

"Nothing!" The blond looked wounded. "That wasn't me, I swear, Haru-chan!"

"Let's go home," Makoto moaned, tugging at Haru's sleeve.

Haru was only too happy to agree, but Nagisa protested. "We only have the lounge left! And it's on the way out anyway!" He began marching off down the hall, waving them along with him. "Come on! It was probably just a rat!"

"That's almost as bad as a ghost!" Makoto muttered, but his grip tightened on Haru's coat as the shorter boy moved to follow Nagisa, stopping him. "Hey, Haru—are you doing all right, being here?"

"I'm fine," Haru said automatically, watching the shadows change as a car drifted by on the street outside.

"We'll leave right after this."

"I said I'm fine. You worry too much."

"Hurry up!" Nagisa called from the lounge doorway, beckoning to them.

Makoto loosened his fingers enough to let his friend keep walking but didn't let go, still far too nervous to let Haru get away from him completely. Haru allowed it; Makoto was one of the very few people he didn't mind touching him, mostly because Makoto didn't abuse that privilege. They followed Nagisa's bright gold head into the lounge. It was a little messy, the furniture not quite where it should have been, a few papers scattered on the floor, but otherwise looked the same. Haru paused inside the door, his eyes dropping to the short bench in front of the window looking out on the pool. He and Rin had sat there so many times, watching the high school students that practiced before they did. They had always arrived early to spend that short hour alone together in the lounge, not always speaking, but every time they would sit just close enough to touch.

"Hey, hey, look at this!"

Nagisa's call shook Haru out of his reverie and he tore his gaze away from the simple bench that held so many memories. He ignored Makoto's green eyes pressing on him, stepping past his friend to where Nagisa was bent slightly at the back wall, grinning at a photograph.

It was of the four of them, Haru, Nagisa, Makoto and Rin. They were arm in arm in a line, three laughing faces turned to the camera. He could remember that day, too. They hadn't known Rin for very long, he had only recently joined their team to train for a big relay race. It had seemed so important then, like everything in their lives had built up toward that race. Now Haru couldn't even remember what it had been for. He knew they had ended up scratching, because Rin had died and the rest of them hadn't been in any shape to even look at a pool.

It had been a good practice, one that the coach wanted to commemorate, to inspire them to push themselves even harder. They had all beaten their times, and Haru had still been so strangely fascinated by what Rin's smile did to his stomach. Haru had been facing away; it seemed he was looking toward the pool, but he remembered: he had been watching Rin.

There was an echo of that gut twisting here, now, staring at that faded photograph. Rin looked so alive, his face alight with triumph, his wet hair slicked across half his face. Haru stuffed his hands in his pockets, clenching them into fists as tight as his chest felt. He had predicted painful memories of Rin, foreseen the way his presence leaked from the very air, but never expected a photograph. Not that smile beaming out at him from a dark wall in a frayed old building, the unanticipated punch to his heart—

A loud bang, the odd hollowness of a fist on glass, Makoto's shrill cry. _"Nagisa!"_

"That wasn't me!" the blond yelped, leaping away from the window that looked out onto the empty pools. "I was just looking—"

"Let's get out of here!" Makoto grabbed Haru's wrist, pulling him at a run down the hall. Nagisa dashed after them, babbling about being left behind. They almost fell in a boisterous tangle down the basement steps, thrashing one by one through the window and bolting off again, making a terrified beeline for Haru's empty house, the closest to the swimming club. Makoto's fingers were still wrapped tightly around his wrist as they sprinted down the quiet street, as though he were afraid of leaving Haru behind in the shadow of bad memories. Haru allowed himself to be led, keeping his free hand in his pocket with his fingers pressed tightly to the curling edge of the painful old photograph, making sure it stayed where it belonged.


End file.
